11 Before 12

by Lisa Greenwald

  What? Who steals soda?

  All of a sudden Ryan is telling me stuff and opening up to me, and it feels like someone dumped a bucket of water on my head when I wasn’t looking. It’s like I want to help, but I also kind of don’t. I feel like I’m frozen.

  I wanted to have fun tonight. Not deal with this terrible stuff. But this is my brother, my older brother. I don’t have a choice.

  “We gotta get out of here,” he says. “Think of something. You’re the one with the big ideas.”

  Ryan is asking me to help him get out of a party we begged to go to.

  I want to erase this, start over, make this whole situation go away. But he stares at me, and I know I need to help him escape. And then I need to stay and tell everyone that Ryan left because he’s going to another party. And I need to tell them that they all suck. Especially Tyler.

  I look around and try to come up with a game plan.

  “Kaylan, please.”

  He pleads with his eyes, and I know I have to help.

  “Okay,” I start. “I’ll distract them with the crazy story about Mr. Tucker and how he was sleeping on the lounge chair on his front lawn and how he got really sunburned.”

  “That’s your best story?” Ryan laughs, and I’m grateful that he’s laughing. Laughter is good. Especially in times of distress.

  “I’ll figure something out. And then while I’m going on and on about this, you need to sneak behind me. Like superfast.”

  He nods but doesn’t say anything. I can’t tell if he agrees.

  “Okay?”

  “This sounds risky,” he says.

  “Risky. But doable.”

  “Okay.”

  So I go out there, and the whooping and chanting has stopped and everyone is focused on a game of Spin the Coke Can.

  To be honest, I didn’t know people really played these games at parties. I thought it was all made up for movies and TV.

  But it’s happening.

  And this is going to help me.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, really loud, so Ryan knows I’m starting and he should get ready to book it.

  “Oh, uh, hey, Kaylan,” Tyler says. “Come join the game.” He looks around at his friends, and they all smile, and maybe I’m making this up, but I think he wants to kiss me. I really do.

  Too bad for him I don’t kiss doofus boys like him, especially doofus boys who taunt my brother and assume all girls wear makeup and laugh when kids are made fun of. And also, I don’t kiss someone who thinks terrible parodies like his are actually funny.

  “Oh, sure. In a second. First I have to tell you guys this crazy story.” I realize that I can’t sit down because then it’ll be even easier to spot Ryan as he makes a run for it.

  “What’s your crraaaazzzyyy story?” this eighth grader asks. I don’t know his name. But he’s one of Tyler’s people, one of the ones that was chanting for my brother to drink the baby bottle. And now he’s mocking me? No way. Not a chance.

  “So, did you guys ever hear about the time these kids were walking by the middle school, and they found Mr. Tucker on a lounge chair in his bathing suit, completely asleep, on the lawn?”

  Everyone stares at me. Mr. Tucker is this beloved teacher at school. He only teaches the eighth graders but everyone knows him. I pretend I’m back on Petey G’s show, making everyone laugh, and all the kids at this party like me, and want to hear what I’m going to say.

  “At first people were freaked. Like, is he breathing and stuff? But he was fine. So then they started pouring water on him. He still didn’t wake up.” I pause. I think they’re listening. I cough a few times—my signal to Ryan that it’s time to go. Then I hear his feet shuffling and I know he’s making a move toward the door.

  “What are you talking about?” one girl says. And Lizzie pats the floor trying to get me to sit down.

  “Did someone put something in her fruit punch?” another kid asks.

  I hear Ryan moving behind me and I think he’s almost in the clear when the floor creaks. I’m midsentence talking about Mr. Tucker’s sunburn and how it was actually for some kind of science class, when I hear Tyler say, “Dude. Where do you think you’re going?”

  I turn around.

  Ryan is standing there. Frozen. His mouth agape.

  “Uh,” I start to talk and then Ryan interrupts me.

  “I’m getting out of here,” he says, sounding more confident than I’ve heard him sound in pretty much forever. “You think you’re just gonna treat me like this and I’m gonna hang around?” He shakes his head. “No way. I’m done with you losers.”

  He looks at me, and inside my head I’m cheering so loud. I half smile and wait for him to say more.

  Everyone is staring at us—sort of half laughing and half whispering to each other. I can’t make out what they’re saying. It looks like they think we’re kidding, but are also curious to see what happens next.

  “I have another party to get to,” he says. “Come on, Kay. We’re out of here.”

  I nod. “By the way, that story was totally, completely made up.” I look at them. “Losers. Not you, Lizzie . . .”

  She gives me a crooked look and I whisper that I’ll text her later.

  Soon Ryan and I are out in front of the house, and the cold wind is hitting our faces. He’s running in place a little bit. I think partially to keep warm and partially because he’s excited.

  “Wow,” he says.

  “Yeah.” I start running toward the end of the block and he follows me.

  “I feel amazing.”

  I’m surprised he’s admitting this. He’s been silent and sulking and weird to me for so many months now that I’ve kind of gotten used to it, I think.

  “You should, Ry,” I say, all out of breath from the excitement and the cold.

  I decide to sit down on the sidewalk, and hope that he joins me. “When they spotted you, I was almost positive you were going to totally clam up and not say anything or freak out or something. But what you did was perfect. So amazingly perfect.”

  “Thanks for your help,” he says. And he’s being sincere. Really, he is. “I’m sorry you had to leave the party. You could’ve stayed, ya know.”

  “Yeah right,” I scoff. “With those jerks.”

  He glares and then sits down next to me finally. “Come on, Kaylan. I know you have a thing for Tyler.”

  I can’t look at him now.

  He continues, “It’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”

  “Yeah, I do have to be embarrassed about it,” I reply. “Because he’s so rude to you. How could I like someone who’s so mean? And also so stupid.”

  “Eh.” He brushes it off. “I mean, he was my friend, too. I dunno. I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk to you.”

  “At least you can admit it now! Progress!” I laugh a little, bumping his shoulder with mine. “You’ve been the jerkiest of jerky jerks.”

  I wonder if I should bring up the jam band and tell him what I did or ask him what I should do about Ari. But I decide not to. We just survived a major social calamity.

  That’s enough for one night.

  We call my mom and she picks us up and we all go out for ice cream. She doesn’t ask too many questions about why we left the party, and I’m grateful for that. I think Ryan is, too.

  “Well, you guys seem to be getting along well,” she says, taking the cherry off her sundae. We’re not cherry people. “Maybe you should go to parties together more often.”

  Ryan and I look at each other and smile, and then crack up.

  “Hey, Mom,” he says. “Do you want to hear a crazy story about that teacher Mr. Tucker?”

  THIRTY-SIX

  ME: MEET AT HARVEY DELI at 12?

  Cami: YES!

  June: Yup!

  Saara: See u there!

  After I group-text to confirm the plans with my lunch table friends (it doesn’t feel right to keep calling them the Whatevers now that we are at group-texting levels and have ac
tual plans), I ask my mom if she’ll drive me over to the Harvey Deli.

  “Did you make up with Ari?” she asks on the drive over.

  “No.” I turn up the music. “I’m meeting some other friends.”

  “Well, that’s nice.” She smiles, and I can tell she’s trying to contain her enthusiasm.

  My mom drops me off in front and tells me to call when I need to be picked up. “Please don’t leave the shopping center on your own. And if you do go back to someone’s house, call and let me know where you are.” She leans her head over to kiss me on the cheek. “And have fun.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I get out of the car, and I get that bubbly nervous stomach I get whenever I’m in a new situation. I’ve never hung out with these girls outside of school before. What if we don’t have anything to talk about?

  I walk inside and they’re all already there. Did they come together? Maybe. They do all live kinda close to each other, pretty near here.

  “Hi,” I say, and do some kind of over-the-top dance to the music playing in the deli.

  “Kaylan!” Cami squeals, standing up. “You’re the funniest. I’m so glad you’re here.” She runs over and pulls me into a hug.

  I walk over to the table, and all of us squee and say hi, and Saara offers me a sip of her black cherry soda. “It’s the best, and they only have this kind here!”

  I’ve never seen Saara so excited about anything, and it pumps me up.

  “So, should we order?” June asks.

  We nod and hop up and go over to the counter.

  “Two Dr. Johnny Fevers and two Blanches?” I ask. “And we’ll all share?”

  “Um, duh.” Cami laughs.

  “And four black cherries,” Saara adds. “I want another one!”

  We go back to the table and wait for our food. I debate telling them about what happened at the party last night, but I don’t want them to feel bad that they weren’t invited in the first place. And I don’t want to think about how horrible it was (before we left).

  “Soooo, guys,” Cami sings. “What’s new?”

  I shrug. “Nada. Just getting ready for the talent show,” I say. “You guys?”

  “That kid Chris texted me,” June says. “We may hang out again!”

  “First Kiss Chris?” I ask, cracking up.

  “Yeah, First Kiss Chris,” June replies, laughing, too.

  Saara turns quiet then and sips the rest of her black cherry. “I had a first kiss miss,” she starts, and we all startle, shocked that she’s talking about this.

  “What?” Cami shrieks.

  “I was at this party at my cousin’s house, and all these kids were in the basement, and then this boy Aiden and I were playing mancala.” She looks up at us. “You know that game?” We all nod, and she goes on. “And of course I beat him, but whatever, and then out of nowhere, he leaned in to kiss me!”

  “Saara!” I shout, and everyone in the deli turns around. I shake my head and mouth Sorry. “So what happened?”

  “I just backed away.” Her cheeks turn red, and she glances over to the counter to see if the food’s coming. “It was too weird! I didn’t even know him!”

  I nod. “Yeah, that is super-weird.”

  “Mega-weird,” Cami adds.

  Finally the food comes, and we all eat our sandwiches.

  “Best sandwich ever,” Cami says between bites. “Agree?”

  “You know I agree,” I add.

  “We agree, too,” June says. “Right, Saar?” She nudges her with her elbow.

  We spend the rest of the meal talking about the sandwich—the crispiness of the eggplant, the crunchiness of the cucumbers, and the creaminess of the mozzarella cheese. It’s a masterpiece.

  We walk around the shopping center, browsing in the card store, picking out the matching necklaces we’re going to buy each other for Christmas and Chanukah.

  “I can’t believe it took us this long to hang out,” Cami adds when we’re waiting for our moms to pick us up. “It’s like we were destined to be friends.”

  I smile, but my throat stings. “Yeah, I agree.”

  I’ve moved on from Ari, I guess. I have my own friends. They like me, and I like them.

  But, the thing is, I still miss her.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  I SPEND THE REST OF Sunday worrying about Monday. Are people going to be talking about the whole escape-from-the-party situation? And then will June, Cami, and Saara be mad I didn’t tell them about it?

  There’s only one thing I can do to take my mind off of the agita: planning a new party! My birthday party! Well, Ari’s, too.

  If Ryan and I can make up, then most certainly Ari and I can.

  I try to compile emails for all the kids we’d want to invite—June, Cami, Saara, Lizzie, Ari, Marie and the other-end-of-the-lunch-table people, Jason, other random stragglers we know from different places. Ari’s Hebrew School friends. I don’t know their names or emails, but I can always find out from her mom or Gemma. She still likes me, I hope.

  I try to pick out the perfect online invite, but I can’t decide on my own. They all look nice. There isn’t really a design that seems to work for two BFFs who aren’t talking but are still going to have a joint birthday party.

  I write an email to Joey, the pool director. It’s the only place I can think of where we can have the party. I don’t want to have it here. Our house is too small, and Mom and Ryan would be annoying.

  Dear Joey, I wondered if we can use the party room at the pool. When I say we, I mean me and Arianna. We are planning a joint party for our twelfth birthday. You know the pool is our most favorite place on earth. Maybe you can even run a Freeze Dance competition for our guests? ☺ I figured since summer is over, the room will be free. Please let me know. Thank you, Kaylan Terrel

  Planning a joint birthday party by yourself is really depressing. What if Ari and I get to the party and don’t even talk? What if Ari doesn’t even show? If the pool thing doesn’t work out, I’ll just have a smaller hangout.

  That could be fun and low-key.

  I decide to text Jason to see how he’s feeling.

  Me: What are you up to?

  Jason: Painting the basement with my mom. Want to come help?

  Me: I can’t right now, but that’s supercute. Text me a picture! Will you help me plan my and Ari’s bday when you’re done?

  Jason: SUUURE

  And then it hits me. My Whole Me Makeover. It’s all about taking a negative thing and making it okay, maybe even positive. Not being knocked down by bad stuff or even if you are, not staying down for too long. Being able to get back up.

  There are only two weeks until this talent show.

  Two weeks until my birthday.

  And I do want to plan that party. But not by myself. And not even really with Jason, even though it’s nice to know he’s willing to help out. I want to plan that party with Ari.

  I can’t go on with life without Ari. It’s too hard. It’s too lonely.

  Something has to be done.

  And I have to be the one to do it.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  TYLER’S WAITING BY MY LOCKER when I get to school Monday morning. My heart doesn’t do that pat-pat-flutter-flutter thing it usually does when I see him. It feels more like a growing flame of anger moving throughout my insides.

  “So that didn’t go the way I thought it would,” he says.

  “What are you talking about?” Sometimes you need to play dumb because you need time to figure out a response for later on in the conversation. It’s hard to think so quickly so early in the morning.

  “The party,” he says like I’m really dumb, slicking back his hair. It’s pretty much soaking wet. “I mean, Kaylan, I thought . . .” His voice trails off, and I think I know where he’s going with this. The problem is, I’m totally disgusted. I thought I liked him. Really, really liked him. And now he just grosses me out.

  “You thought?”

  I’m gonna make him work at this one. He can’t
get away with being shady and rude and just an all-around bad person.

  Helping humanity starts with one person. One person at a time.

  “I thought we, ya know, liked each other,” he says. “And then you just left.”

  The bell rings and I gather my books, close my locker, and start walking away. He follows me.

  “Where are you going?”

  I stop walking and turn around, and that superhuman strength bubbles up again, like how I felt when I stood up for Ryan at the party and when I was on Petey G’s show. My words take over. I stop overthinking and just talk. “I’m going to class. And Tyler, how can I like you if you’re that big of a jerkwad to my brother? I mean, come on. Don’t you even know about human decency?”

  He stands there, looking dumbfounded.

  “Do you?” I ask again. “Do you even know what it means to be a good person and not a complete turd?”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  I’m kind of shocked I said the word turd, but whatever. Too late now. “That’s what I thought.”

  I keep walking to class, my head held high. Because even though I left my first-ever cool-person party, and the guy I thought I really wanted to be my first kiss turned out to be a major jerkburger, and I don’t have my best friend anymore, I really do think I’m making a difference in the world—one mean boy at a time.

  Later that afternoon, I’m home in my room attempting to do homework.

  All I can focus on is how to win Ari back, how to prove that my Whole Me Makeover was a success—we went through a rough time, but we’re gonna get back to the way we were before, maybe be even better.

  I look over at the 11 Before 12 List tacked on my bulletin board, and the only two things left to accomplish are: kiss a boy (I have no idea how I’ll accomplish that in one week, now that Tyler’s a complete jerk) and kayak to Arch Island, the little island across the lake.

  Our parents always said that when we were twelve, if they thought we were ready for it, Ari and I could kayak by ourselves. But there’s no way Mom will let me go by myself at night.